


A Solstice Gift

by LicieOIC



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Couch Sex, Dark Castle, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Post-Curse Storybrooke, Smut, The Enchanted Forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:57:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2811158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LicieOIC/pseuds/LicieOIC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumplestiltskin does NOT celebrate any happy, fluffy holidays like the Winter Solstice. His new maid has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Solstice Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatRavenclawBitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRavenclawBitch/gifts).



> My Rumbelle Secret Santa gift to thatravenclawbitch! She prompted: "Belle teaches Rumple a lesson" and wanted something smutty. What I wrote is inspired by "Beauty and the Beast - The Enchanted Christmas" so it is mostly fluffy, but there is a smutty epilogue! If you only want to read the fluff, just stop reading once it transitions to modern day Storybrooke.
> 
> Also, I set this in the canon verse as much as possible, except for a few things. Regina makes an appearance, so Belle knows who she is, also I haven't seen any of the latest season, so any allusion to that is left out.
> 
> My thanks to littlewhomouse for being a beta babe!

 

Rumplestiltskin paused in the act of corking his latest potion. He’d been so focused on his task, that he hadn’t noticed anything else, but now, his ears perked up, catching a faint sound. An unfamiliar one. Laughter. Real, honest laughter, not like the mocking giggles that would occasionally trill from his throat.

He set the phial aside and moved to the tower window. He looked down at the castle grounds to see if he could locate the source. Skating on the frozen pond, her green and yellow cloak around her shoulders, was his little maid. He shouldn’t have been surprised to see it was her, she was the only other person in residence at the castle, and yet, he was. She turned in graceful circles and figure eights, laughing delightedly.

He watched, fascinated. Her hands, nose, and cheeks were rosy red with cold, but she didn’t seem to care, if her bright smile was anything to go by. _Foolish girl,_ he thought. She’d catch her death… and then who’d clean the castle? He should never have allowed her past the castle door onto the grounds--

His train of thought halted as Belle skated over an uneven patch of ice and she pitched forward, her arms pinwheeling. Instantly he appeared before her in a poof of purple smoke, his arms out to catch her. But her momentum was too great and, given that they were standing on ice, Rumplestiltskin’s legs shot out from under him the moment she collapsed in his arms. They landed in a heap on the cold, hard surface.

Incredibly, she giggled. He lifted his head to scowl at her, only to be brought up short by her impish smile. Flaming fairies, the girl was laying on top of him and yet she made no move to scramble away hurriedly. Had she no sense of self-preservation? He was not a pillow! He was the Dark One!

“Seems like you’re making a habit out of catching me,” she said.

Reminded of the incident with the ladder and the curtains, his cheeks heated a bit and he pushed her away before she could notice the odd red color beneath his gold-flecked skin. “Get off,” he ordered. He struggled to get to his feet with as much dignity as he could. She also stood, managing a bit better he noticed, because of the skates she was wearing. She reached out and held his elbow, surprising him yet again.

“Be careful, it’s slippery,” she warned. As if _she_ had to tell _him_ , who’d just rescued her _because_ it was slippery!

“Where did you get those?” he demanded, pointing at her feet.

She lifted one foot, gracefully turning her ankle. “I found them. There’s loads of stuff in the castle,” she informed him. “I found a whole floor with rooms full of junk, just cast around in piles.”

He said nothing, but inwardly felt a bit embarrassed. He’d acquired so many things after centuries of deals, not all of them magical in nature. Much like his endless reams of gold thread, he’d magicked the useless items into a random room and forgotten about it.

She looked up at him in concern. “Was I not supposed to use anything I found?” she asked, truly appearing apologetic.

“No, no,” he said, fluttering his hands a bit. “If it were something dangerous, I’d have it locked away. Though, knowing you, you’ll manage to get yourself into _some_ sort of peril.” He lifted an eyebrow and pointed a taloned finger at her face. “You’re lucky I was around or you’d have bruised that little nose!”

She shrugged. “An acceptable risk. Maybe it wouldn’t be so dangerous if you skated with me.”

He stared at her. Was she mad? “Skate? With you?”

“Yes!” she said, smiling. “It could be fun!”

Fun? While not making a deal? He wasn’t sure if that even really counted as ‘fun.’ ‘Malicious glee’ seemed more appropriate. He was about to tell her that he did not require anything so frivolous in order to gain some small pleasure out of life, when her expression crumpled sympathetically.

“Or, do you not know how?” she asked, clearly pitying him for his lack of such simple knowledge.

He bristled. “Of _course_ I know how!” he snapped. The Dark One knew everything! With a flourish of his hands, smoke swirled around his ankles and when it cleared, his feet were shod with a pair of sinister-looking skates made of black leather, studded with short metal spikes, and wickedly sharp blades. He pushed off from the ice… and promptly fell on his face.

Yes, he knew how to skate. But he also hadn’t done it since he was a small child, and that had been well over three hundred years ago. He pushed himself up on his knees, furious with Belle and even more with himself, expecting her to laugh at him. But instead, she knelt at his side in concern and helped him back on his feet, keeping her hands on his arms to hold him steady.

“Alright?” she asked. “Not hurt, are you?”

 _Only my pride._ “I’m fine,” he insisted, but he didn’t pull away from her. The only thing worse than falling would be to fall again right after standing up.

“Why don’t we try this? Brace your skates.”

He did and Belle turned herself around and then reached behind for his hands. He hesitated, but when she waved her fingers, he took hold of them. His jaw nearly fell to the ice when she placed his hands firmly on her hips.

“Now, hold on!” she said and pushed off before he could say anything.

His rational mind knew she was skating fairly slowly, but that didn’t stop him from holding onto her for dear life as she led him around in a wide circle. After the second successful rotation with no one falling down, she cast a smile over her shoulder.

“There! Not so hard, is it?” she said. “Now, follow my feet. One, two, three, one, two, three…”

He watched her feet and counted the waltz-like rhythm. One, two, three, then switch and glide on the other foot, one, two, three, and again. It wasn’t long before he was actually guiding her instead of letting her pull him, his fingers digging slightly into her waist.

The hood of her cloak had fallen back, and her hair flowed freely behind her in the cold wind, its subtle perfume drifting back to him. He felt intoxicated by it, and by the sound of her laughter. He skated faster, just to hear that clear mirth ring across the ice.

She put her hands over his. “Here, now let’s try this!” She pulled him up beside her, and placed her left hand in his left, her right in his right, so their arms crossed over each other’s, creating a lover’s knot. “And push off on the right…”

They skated off, in sync. And he was stunned to note that he was smiling and laughing along with her. Not the giggle of the imp, but the lower chuckle of the spinner, a sound he hadn’t made in such a long time. It had a rusty quality to it, as if he didn’t quite remember how it went. But it brought a lightness to his blackened heart. It was the closest he'd felt to being happy since he'd lost Bae... So, of course, it couldn't last long.

“AHEM.”

The overly-loud throat clearing from the side of the pond was about the least subtle way of getting his attention and, startled, Rumplestiltskin tripped over his skates and fell headlong into a large snowdrift, pulling Belle with him. A high-pitched laugh from the direction of the non-subtle cough grated on his nerves before he’d even looked up to see who it was.

“Ice skating, Rumple? And now making snow angels! If I’d known all it would take was getting a pretty girl to hold your hand, I would have asked you ages ago,” Regina snarked.

Rather than suffer the indignity of climbing out of the pile of snow, covered in the cold white stuff, Rumplestiltskin merely transported himself to Regina’s side, the flakes disappearing along with the smoke. His regular lace-up boots were back in place.

“I wasn’t expecting you, dearie,” he snarled, just barely refraining from turning the woman into a squishable bug.

 _“That_ is painfully obvious,” she said, still highly amused at having caught her former teacher in such an undignified position. “All done playing or should I come back after nap time?”

He stalked off toward the Dark Castle, muttering threats under his breath, leaving Regina to follow after him if she wanted his assistance with whatever had brought her to his home. He never once looked back at Belle, who was just managing to get free of the pile of snow.

Belle huffed and shivered as she brushed herself off, disappointed that they’d been interrupted. She hadn’t really thought Rumplestiltskin would take her up on her offer, she’d been even more surprised when she’d actually begun to have fun with him. Ever since that incident with her falling off the ladder, he’d been… well, if not nicer, then _softer_ towards her. He really wasn’t that bad when he let his guard down, like he had today.

The wind shifted and Belle shuddered, wobbling on her skates a little. She was too cold and wet to stay out now. She should go back to the kitchen and warm up, make some tea. She really wasn’t dressed well enough for this kind of exercise anyway.

She entered the kitchen through the garden door and removed her soaked cloak, then the skates, putting her own shoes back on. She hung the wet items near the fire to dry, setting the kettle on it too, and then turned to go to her room to change clothes. That’s when she saw them.

A finely knitted hat, a thick muffler, and a pair of mittens sat on the kitchen table, all made out of golden thread, leaving no doubt whatsoever as to where they’d come from. She picked up the hat, expecting it to feel cold and metallic, but the thread was just as pliable as wool and much softer, smoother, not itchy the way wool tended to be.

Delighted, she smiled at the unexpected gift. She knew Rumplestiltskin would act like it meant nothing, just like anything he gave her, but she wanted to repay him somehow.

She nibbled her bottom lip, absentmindedly drumming her fingers against the table top. Given how many months she’d been in his employ so far, the winter solstice had to be near. It was the perfect excuse! She’d decorate the Great Hall with whatever she could find and do her best to cook a solstice feast. It couldn’t be that hard with only two to cook for.

She rubbed the golden mittens between her fingers as she pondered what she could give him as a solstice present. What did one give a sorcerer who could conjure just about anything?

* * *

The tree was a fairly small, shorter than Belle was herself, but it was the biggest one that she could safely cut down and haul back to the Dark Castle alone. At first, she thought she wouldn’t be able to find a good one on the castle grounds. Most of the evergreens were well over ten feet tall and, even with the little wooden sled she’d found to help carry the tree back with her, she knew she wouldn’t be able to manage it. But then she’d found this little one, shaded by all the others, and she’d known it was her tree. Perhaps not as grand as she’d imagined, but it would do.

Rumplestiltskin was currently away from the castle, helping the Queen with some task. It was the perfect opportunity to snoop around and do some decorating.

From one of the junk rooms, Belle found a large brass urn, which she filled with sand and water and placed near the spinning wheel. It was difficult to get the tree to stand upright without anyone to tell her which way to angle the thing, and after a few tries, she was tired of climbing under the tree and getting pine needles all over her, so she called it good enough. It was only leaning a _little_ to the left. Rumplestiltskin probably wouldn’t even notice.

Next, she hunted for decorations. Most obvious were the spools of gold thread. She couldn’t find any ribbon and wasn’t about to use string, so she tied bundles of greenery with lengths of gold and hung them from the mantles, shelves, and various pedestals holding Rumplestiltskin’s treasures. She hung gold thread in swaths from the windows and wrapped it around the bannisters. When she was done, there was a bit of sparkle everywhere.

Aside from the gold thread that she’d draped on the tree’s branches, she’d also managed to find a bag of little silver bells and a box containing a beautiful collection of small crystal animals, which she placed in the tree on nearly invisible twine. She spared a sad thought for the poor individual who’d lost these lovely things in a deal with her master. Well, at least someone would enjoy them again. And since the tree was so small, the decorations didn’t look too sparse.

Feeling accomplished, she went to search through her cookbooks to locate some recipes that didn’t look too complicated. She wasn’t entirely confident that she could pluck and dress a _whole_ goose with her limited culinary experience.

Always, at the back of her mind, she wondered what she could give to Rumplestiltskin as a gift. He’d confided in her very seldomly, so she didn’t feel like she knew him well enough to give him anything really personal. He’d already given her a library, since books were what _she_ loved most.

 _Would that do?_ she wondered. Perhaps she could give him a story. A smile settled on her lips as she thought about what sort of tale she could write for him.

* * *

In the library, Belle found an empty writing journal; its red leather cover was glossy and new. With a fresh quill, she wrote a story for Rumplestiltskin while her attempt at a solstice goose cooked in the kitchen. Though she had no great artistic talent, she even doodled a few illustrations.

She smiled as she wrote, hoping that he’d enjoy her little gift. She knew that Rumplestiltskin was deeply unhappy and she thought that perhaps he didn’t know what it was like to lose oneself in a book. She read stories all the time about heroes who overcame their deepest woes and triumphed over adversity. Rumplestiltskin needed that kind of encouragement to put hope back into his heart.

If he could let go of his mantle of sorrow for a little while and learn the joy of the written word, they’d have something else to talk about. Then she could get to know him a little better and if he opened himself up to her, like he had when he’d agreed to skate with her, then maybe she could reach him. Everyone needed someone, maybe Rumplestiltskin did, too. He was the only person in her life now; all she wanted was a chance to be one of the people in his. Not just a caretaker, but a friend.

When she was finished with the story, she wrapped the book in a pillowcase and tied a bow of gold thread around it. On a bit of parchment, she wrote _To Rumplestiltskin, From Belle, Happy Solstice,_ and then she placed the package on the stool of his spinning wheel.

As she took in a deep breath of satisfaction, she noted an acrid scent in the air. With a shriek of dismay, Belle took off running for the kitchen. The goose! In her enthusiasm over writing her story, she’d completely lost track of time. The room was thick with black clouds when she entered and she immediately opened the back door to let it disperse before opening the oven which let out another great belch of smoke.

Coughing, she got the goose out of the heat. The poor thing was shriveled and burnt, but maybe it would be alright on the inside? She turned it onto a serving platter in order to make a few experimental cuts. That was when the doors to the Great Hall banged open.

“What in seven hells is THIS?”

Rumplestiltskin was back!

She was so excited to see his reaction, Belle brought the goose with her as she ran back up to the hall, not even registering that Rumplestiltskin didn’t sound too pleased. She realized her mistake once she got there and hastily deposited the platter with the blackened bird on the table. She turned to him with a smile that he did not return.

“Bored, were you, dearie?” he said, waving a hand about the room to encompass her decorations. “Have I not given you enough chores to do or books to read? Why is there a tree in the middle of the hall and my gold flung about on every surface?” He picked up the log she’d carefully placed near the fireplace, a length of gold thread wrapped around it and tied jauntily. “Flaming fairies, why is there a _bow_ on a piece of _wood?”_

She bit her lip. He wasn’t happy. The best she could do was brazen through it and hope for the best. “It’s a wishing log,” she said, coming over to him.

“A _what?”_

“A wishing log,” she said again. She’d searched the wood pile for a long time to find that particular piece. Not too big or too small, and perfectly split down the middle. “It’s a wonderful tradition. One log is chosen and then everyone touches it to make a solstice wish.”

“Oh, I see,” Rumplestiltskin said in a deceptively mild tone. “You made a wish last year, didn’t you?” His voice rose harshly as he spread his arms to indicate the Dark Castle. “Is _this_ what you wished for?”

“No,” she admitted, quietly, her eyes falling to the floor. She lifted them again a moment later, determination gleaming in their blue depths. “But I’ll make a _new_ wish this year. And when the log is burned on the morning after--”

“Wishes are for _fairies_ , dearie,” he said, curling his lip in distaste, as if he’d said a nasty word. “There are no _wishes_ here!” He tossed the log into the air and it dissolved in a puff of smoke. “There is no solstice here!”

“But--!”

“No!” he snarled, leaning close to her face to intimidate her. “I am the master and you will obey me! The Dark One does not celebrate any happy, fluffy holidays!”

She frowned at him, her lower lip pouting just slightly as she pursed her lips. Of course she wouldn’t back down. “How can you be so selfish?”

“Selfish?” he repeated, placing a hand to his chest as though affronted. “Let me see, the winter solstice.” He tapped his chin, walking away from her thoughtfully. “If I remember correctly, it was the coldest, darkest winter ever and the pathetic mortals all pooled their resources to survive. It’s a celebration of being grateful for what you have.” He laid a finger aside of his mouth as though thinking. “Now, what do _I_ have to be grateful for?” He spun back around, pointing his finger in the air. “Ah! I know! I’m grateful… that I can do… _this.”_ He snapped his fingers at the tree and it instantly burst into flame.

Belle gasped. “No!”

She ran toward the tree, but it was much too late. Rumplestiltskin’s magical fire turned the evergreen to ash in seconds, leaving only a skinny black husk. The crystal ornaments crashed to the stone floor, breaking into tiny pieces, the silver bells creating a disharmonious clamor as they bounced and rolled away in every direction.

Rumplestiltskin trilled an unpleasant giggle. “Looks like you burnt up _this_ part already,” he said, lifting one of the goose’s flippers with the tips of two fingers.

His mocking grin disappeared as he watched her quietly kneel down before the burnt tree, which now looked like a used matchstick, her expression crushed. She picked up one of the largest pieces of crystal. It might have been the wing of a butterfly. The way she was looking at it, one would think he’d gone and killed the real thing.

He hardened his resolve. “No solstice,” he said again, firmly. _“I_ have nothing to be grateful for. Everything I ever loved was taken from me, not that you would understand… that.”

He realized too late that Belle would understand _exactly_ that. He’d been the one to take her from her home. He threw back his shoulders, purposely turning away from her. He gestured at the floor and the windows and surfaces, getting rid of the messes and any evidence of Belle’s hard work in flourishes of smoke.

“You’ll have to do without your bells and holly from now on,” he said. The last thing to go was the goose. “And for the sake of my health, don’t _ever_ attempt to make whatever _that_ was again.”

She lifted her chin as she stood up from the floor. “No, _you_ don’t understand,” she said, stepping up to him. “There’s more to the solstice than any of this.” She gestured even though everything representing the holiday was now gone. “Decorations and snow come and go. I only did it because I thought it might make you happy.” He scoffed, but she went on. “No one can stop the solstice, not even you, Rumplestiltskin. There always will be a time when the world is filled with peace and love. Whether you like it or not! And you have so _much_ to be grateful for!”

“Oh, really? And what are _you_ grateful for, dearie?” he sneered. “I suppose you’re _ever_ so grateful to be kept a prisoner in the Dark Castle, attending to the whims of its master and working your little noble fingers raw?” He wiggled his own hands at her, mockingly.

“It’s true that I miss my family and friends, and I work harder now than I’ve had to in the past,” she said, her eyes serious. “But I have clothing to wear and the means to keep them clean. A master generous enough to provide me with books to read.” He lifted an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. “Food to eat, though I have to cook it myself. And a roof over my head, even if that roof is in the dungeon. And I _am_ grateful for all of that.” She gestured at Rumplestiltskin. “You have the greatest power in all the realms; you can have anything you want! And you say you have nothing to be thankful for?”

“That’s right,” he said, glaring at her. “Because the only thing I truly want is gone! And I can’t get him back!” He turned away, the fingers of his right hand twitching. “Not yet,” he muttered.

“What is it that you want?” she asked, her voice softening.

He was silent, leaning one hand on the table. He took in a deep breath and released it through his nose. Though she could only make out his profile through his curls, it was evident how tight his jaw was. She had an idea who his slip of the tongue referred to, but was uncertain whether he’d react in anger if she pressed him.

Taking a chance, Belle tentatively came forward to stand at his side, hesitant to break the quiet spell that had fallen around him. He was looking up at the nearest window, at the slate gray sky beyond the glass, but his eyes were far away, lost in memory.

“Him?” she prompted, lifting her eyebrows. “The son you mentioned before?”

“You never know when to quit, do you?” he asked, but his voice had lost its edge. He seemed deflated, defeated, as he always did whenever his son was mentioned. “What good is power if it doesn’t help me get him back?” He scrubbed a hand over his face and waved the other in her direction, tiredly. “Leave me,” he said, then raised his voice slightly when she opened her mouth again, “Just… do it.”

Belle pressed her lips together, recognizing that she’d pushed him far enough. Sad that she’d failed to bring him even a little cheer, she turned and headed down toward the dungeon without another word.

Rumplestiltskin heaved a deep sigh. At least she’d listened. He didn’t know what it was about her, but somehow, she always managed to break down his defenses and leave him feeling exhausted. He moved away from the table to go to his spinning wheel, hoping to while away a few hours in forgetful monotony, but startled when he saw a rectangular package sitting on his stool. Somehow, he’d missed it earlier. More solstice nonsense? Well, that accounted for the… _creative_ wrapping. He plucked at the pillowcase as he picked it up, frowning.

He looked at the tag. Even though he and Belle were the only two people in the castle, he didn’t think it could possibly be for him. He stared down at his name, written in Belle’s neat handwriting, for a long time. His fingers tapped the parcel as he grew more curious by the moment. It was obviously a book, but what book could she have chosen? What did _she_ think he ought to read that he couldn’t have already?

Grasping one end of the gold thread, he paused. Apparently, he still had the ghost of a conscience, because it nagged him now. It wasn’t yet the solstice. He shouldn’t open it. He’d never let Bae open a gift early, when they’d had money for presents, no matter how much the boy begged. Rumplestiltskin had maintained that the gift would be all the sweeter if his son waited.

 _Hell with it,_ he thought and tugged on the thread, pulling it free. He didn’t celebrate the solstice, so it didn’t matter when he opened it. He whipped off the pillowcase to reveal a plain red leather book. No title. Furrowing his brow, he turned the cover and found to his astonishment, pages and pages of Belle’s writing. She’d spent time to make him a story.

 _How stupid. Does she think me a child?_ And yet, he found himself drifting to his chair and settling down to read.

 _Once upon a time,_ rang Belle’s voice in his head, _there was an enchanted castle. Its master seemed as cold as winter. Deep inside his heart, he harboured a sadness, one he took great pains to try and forget…_

_… Reminded of his loss, his cries echoed through the stone walls of the castle, but there was no one to hear him. No comfort to be found. He grew more and more isolated, his heart more and more guarded…_

_… Though he possessed the greatest power in all the realms, he was alone…_

_… In the company of another person once more, his humanity began to show itself in flashes of humor, moments of consideration, and real, genuine smiles. His heart, once so cold, had softened in the warmth of growing affection…_

_… And in that simple act of kindness, he knew that someone cared. The solstice that year was spent exchanging humble gifts, but the greatest gift that anyone received was the gift of hope._

It was romanticised drivel and pure Belle. He… didn’t hate it. Did she… really see him that way? Or was she merely trying to put him in a good light? He looked at the little illustration of a curly haired imp with large eyes seated at a spinning wheel, both hands gleefully full of thread. She could have drawn him as hideous and forbidding, or not drawn him at all. Instead, she’d drawn him with a smile, the image almost… cute. He wrinkled his nose at the word, but a better alternative failed to come to mind.

He closed the book and ran a hand over the cover. “Hope,” he repeated quietly to himself. It was a decidedly unfamiliar emotion. She wanted him to have hope. Didn’t she know how painful it could be? _Foolish, naive girl._ He stomped down to the doorway of her dungeon cell, determined to return her _gift_.

The door was open, he hadn’t locked her up since the first week she’d been there, and what he saw surprised him. Belle had taken a ream of gold thread and draped it along the outcroppings of the uneven stonework on the walls and around the bars of the single window. In the center of the room, she’d placed an evergreen branch in a bucket and hung more thread over it. It was leaning far to one side and drooping, a sad little imitation of a tree, but she didn’t seem to care. In the candle and torch light, the gloomy room had a warm glow.

It seemed Belle was determined to have her solstice, and she didn’t need any impressive decorations or gifts to celebrate it. When she’d told him she was grateful for what she had, she’d meant every word; he could see that now.

Her head popped up when he cleared his throat. He brought up his hands to fidget and realized he was still holding her book. He handled it awkwardly, turning it over and around, avoiding looking directly at her. When he happened to glance at her face, however, he saw that she was smiling a little bit. It wasn’t in him to say the words to ask for forgiveness, but his courage grew.

“You gave me a present,” he said, curtly. Or, he tried for curt. His voice was softer than he’d intended. “I won’t have you thinking I owe you something.”

He gestured for her to follow him back up to the Great Hall. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to look back to make sure she was coming, instead he relied on his improved hearing for her slight footfall. He was gratified when there was only the briefest of hesitation on her part.

He paused at the door to the hall and waited until she stopped at his side. “Hold this for me,” he said, extending the book to her. She quirked an eyebrow, but took it from him.

With an impish smile, Rumplestiltskin made a grand gesture with both hands and a great flurry of gold sparks flew from his fingertips to the floor, racing across the room, up the walls, over the furniture and meeting at the center chandelier with an enormous explosion of light and color.

As the sparkles drifted down like golden snowflakes, Belle’s jaw dropped at the transformation left behind by the magic.

Gone was the gloomy, oppressive atmosphere, as were the pedestals with their odd trophies. The grayish marble shone, appearing almost white with gold flecks, and all the carpets and tapestries appeared brighter, richer. Garlands of greenery tied with bright red ribbons hung in swags along the ceiling and across the mantle above the cheerily blazing fireplace. Lit candles were housed in nests of holly and the candelabra were wrapped in more ribbon with big bows. Near the windows sat a fat evergreen tree, nearly as tall as the rafters, decked with Rumplestiltskin’s gold thread, teardrop shaped crystals, giant red and white flowers, and glass orbs, each one holding a magical light, like a tiny star.

The long table was set with a huge feast with every solstice dish Belle could name and even some she didn’t recognize. There were yams and other roasted vegetables, candied nuts, loaves of fresh bread, mulled wine and cider, extravagant-looking chocolates, numerous puddings and pies, poached fish covered in lemon slices, and some bowls that contained rices and spicy smelling stews. The plump turkey at the head of the table was twice as big as the poor goose she’d burnt. The chandelier above the table glimmered with light, every jewel reflecting rainbows, and a big ball of mistletoe hung below.

What really made her smile, however, was the second chair he’d added to the table, sitting to the right of his usual spot at the head. She hoped it would be a regular addition and not just a special treat for now.

“I am not naturally given to hope,” he said, gaining her attention. “But… I thought… since you seem to have so much of it…” He lifted his eyes from the floor, peeking up at her. “Perhaps that is something you could teach me.”

The smile that spread across her face could have made flowers grow. She extended the book back to him, but when he took it, she placed a hand over his. “I would love to,” she said, warmly, and he felt the glow extend all the way down to his poor, malnourished heart.

He kept hold of her hand as he went to the fireplace, setting the book she’d given him at the center of the mantle, and then he turned to her, holding her arm up as he looked at her simple blue dress critically.

“You’re not really dressed for a solstice party, though, are you, my dear?” he said, grinning back at her.

She blushed a bit, appearing flustered. “Well, I--”

He gestured at Belle and silver smoke gave way to an exquisite floor-length gown. He’d dressed her in his own color of gold, but it was soft and buttery, not harsh and glittering. The off-the-shoulder dress was constructed of the finest satin and shooting star-patterned lace, which gathered in the back and fell in waves to a small train. Little satin rosettes were gathered at the pick-ups of the full skirt and at the center of her bodice. It was the most beautiful gown she’d ever seen, let alone worn. It was fit for a queen, not the minor noblewoman she’d been and certainly not the caretaker she was now.

When she looked up in astonishment, Rumplestiltskin had magically changed his own clothing as well. Instead of the black and red dragon’s hide he’d been wearing, he wore a white and gold shirt and waistcoat with an intricately folded cravat under a sapphire blue tailcoat with amber and gold detailing at the collar, wrists, and pockets. He’d chosen a blue as deep as her eyes and, surprisingly, he looked rather good in white. He snapped his fingers and a large circular music box in a corner of the room began to play.

He swept her a low bow and she dipped into a curtsey, delighted. As she stepped into the circle of his arms, her hair brushed his jaw. He looked at her right hand, held in his left, appearing so small, so white, next to his gray-green skin flecked with gold. He was a monster, and yet, she smiled at him and spoke of hope. She danced with him as if he were any other man.

Perhaps the solstice wasn’t as useless and idiotic as he’d thought. Not if it resulted in a moment as sweet as this.

When Belle leaned her head against his shoulder, her forehead touching his neck, his heart jumped and galloped in his throat, making it quite difficult for him to breathe. That was the moment Rumplestiltskin knew…

* * *

Belle giggled. “Was that really the moment you knew you were in love with me?” she asked, removing the next ornament from its box and handing it to Gold to put on the tree.

He’d forbidden her to climb up on the ladder, at least while she insisted on wearing such outrageously tall heels. She didn’t mind him using magic to decorate the outside of the pink house, it was cold and the ladder was a great deal taller than the three step one they were currently using, but the tree in the parlour _had_ to be decorated by hand, she said. The compromise was that Gold would be the one to place the higher up ornaments.

“I don’t know about that,” he said in his soft Scottish brogue. “More like, I knew I was in a great deal of trouble.”

She laughed again. “You were right about that. Last one.” She handed up their favorite ornament, the one they’d purchased together on their first Christmas after getting their memories back.

He leaned down and kissed her lightly as he took the golden spinning wheel from her hand. He knew she loved reminiscing about their first Christmas-- well, solstice-- together while they decorated, though he could have done without bringing up the moments when he’d been an ass. He still cringed when he thought about his rough treatment of Belle in their early months together, even though she’d completely forgiven him many times over.

He placed the wheel at the top of the tree, near the star, and then climbed carefully down, something that would have been impossible before the return of his magic. He mostly carried his cane now out of habit… and as a handy weapon, should the need arise.

Belle was thankful that it hadn’t been necessary of late, though she still remembered the thrill she’d felt as Lacey when she’d watched Gold being the fierce and dark man he was known to be. It was the part of her that loved all of him, even the darkness, which had manifested in her cursed persona. She was still, and always, drawn to the duality of him: the sweet, considerate spinner who was caring and could be kind, and the man of dark passions who protected what he loved, who made her heart pound and her body ache with need. With just a look, a touch, he could make her breathless.

They stood back and observed their handiwork. The fire and the Christmas lights (Gold still refused to call them _fairy_ lights) gave the entire room a lovely glow. Belle leaned in close and he wrapped his arm around her. She brought her left hand up and curled it around his lapel, her wedding ring shining in the firelight. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her temple, feeling grateful, as always, to have such a beautiful and loving wife.

“I have something for you,” he said, pulling back enough to turn toward her fully.

“Rumple,” she said, gesturing at the mountain of presents under the tree. She was always saying that he spoiled her.

He gave her a crooked smile. “I know, but it would make me very happy if you’d wear it at the party tonight.” From behind his back, he revealed a velvety red rose set on a comb for her hair. “If you’ll have it?” he asked, much the way he had so long ago, except the teasing note in his voice was gone this time. There was nothing but tenderness and love in his tone, intense passion in his warm brown eyes.

She nodded, her cheeks flushed with happiness. He set the comb into her half pulled back hairstyle. It looked perfect, just as he’d known it would, especially with the ruby silk dress she wore. The short, flared skirt and the row of looped buttons down the front that revealed a touch of cleavage had been driving him mad all evening. When she leaned in to kiss him for the thoughtful present, the ever present hunger for her flared hot and he brought his arms around her waist, tugging her closer as he angled his head to deepen the kiss.

“Mmm, Rumple,” she murmured, between kisses. “Our guests… they’ll be here soon…”

“Well, then, we’ll have to hurry, dearest,” he said, completely unrepentant as one of his hands drifted down to give her bum a squeeze. “I promise I’ll make it up to you later.”

“You know I don’t mind quickies.”

“I do. You deserve _hours_ of pleasure. Which you’ll have later, after our guests leave.”

It still surprised him a little that he gave an annual Christmas party and that, moreover, there were going to be actual guests. Aside from perhaps Jefferson and Henry, Belle was the only one who genuinely liked Gold. He knew that the only reason everyone else showed up was because of Belle. It was impossible not to love her.

In the interest of saving time, he pressed Belle down on the nearby sofa as they kissed. Belle hated unnecessary travel by magic, otherwise he might have just poofed them up to their bedroom. He placed one knee beside her thigh, bending over her, trailing kisses down the long column of her neck as she tilted her head back. She twined her hands into his long silvered hair and a low rumble issued from his throat.

He trailed his hands along the outside of her thighs, dragging her skirt up past her hips, bunching it at her waist. She lifted herself up a bit, enough for Gold to hook his fingers into the waistband of her knickers and pull them down. He fingered the red lace thong and noted the dampness. With heat in his eyes, he promised her without words that her naughty underwear choice would be rewarded later before he tossed the tiny scrap of fabric over his shoulder.

Her hands made quick work of his belt and trousers, shifting the bare minimum of clothing necessary to free his rigid length. The sight of him, fully aroused and ready when they’d had such little foreplay, gave her a happy little shiver.

Gold loved Belle’s body, all lush curves and soft skin in one compact package, which was another reason why he didn’t normally care for quick sex. He enjoyed devoting himself to her pleasure, touching all the perfect spots that made her writhe for him. Kneeling in front of the sofa, he gripped her waist and pulled her to the edge of it, her thighs pressed just above his hips.

He touched her, sliding his fingers through her wet folds, and her soft moan brought a feral smile to his face. Watching Belle respond to him was a thing of wonder. He sucked in a breath as he found her entrance with his cock, the urge to possess and claim what was his riding him hard. He moved forward with a long groan and she wrapped her legs around his waist, waiting until he was fully seated before putting her hands behind his neck and drawing him in for a kiss. As he settled into a familiar rhythm, her tongue traced his lower lip before plunging deep into his mouth. She mimicked the movement of his body with her tongue as intense pleasure coursed through them in dizzying waves. They were both breathless when she ended the kiss to bury her face against his shoulder.

“Please, Rumple,” she whimpered. Knowing what she wanted, he reached between them, touching her again just above where they were joined. Her back arched almost at once and she cried out in passion. Her head tipped back against the sofa, her expression tense, her eyes closed.

“Look at me, love,” he bit out.

As cerulean met amber, Belle’s breath caught and a spasm shook her whole body. She called his name and he grabbed her hips, driving himself deep within her, as he lost control. His mind went blissfully blank of everything but the awareness of incredible sensation as his climax overwhelmed him. Shudders wracked his frame as he came long and hard inside her.

When the tremors finally stopped, Gold opened his eyes to find that he’d collapsed on top of her, his face buried between her breasts. He found he wasn’t eager at all to move and instead pressed kisses to each soft swell over her dress. He could feel her heart beating at a rapid pace, her quick breaths stirring the hair at his crown.

He lifted his head at last, giving her a smug smile as he took in the satisfied expression on her face. It was nice to know he could do that to her in just a few minutes as well as over the span of several hours. With a throaty chuckle, she pulled him in for another kiss. His fingers tangled in the hair at her nape as he molded their mouths together. And just like always, Gold felt as if the world suddenly came into balance.

The front door banged open. “Gold! Be-elle!” Jefferson sing-songed. “I brought eggnog!”

The lovers sprang apart like two guilty teenagers and Gold’s softened cock slipped free of Belle as he struggled to get to his feet. Belle leapt up, nimble as a gazelle, and practically ran out to the front hall to greet their friend. How she did it while wearing those heels, he’d never know.

With silent gratitude to his wife for delaying their friend, Gold turned toward the fireplace and tucked himself back into his trousers as quickly as he could. He smoothed his shirt and rebuttoned his jacket, taking a calming breath before turning around, the cool and composed mask in place.

Not a moment too soon. The hatter burst into the parlour with a bright grin on his face, fresh snow dusting his umber jacket, red scarf, and green hat, which boasted a sprig of mistletoe. He approached Gold with his arms open wide, engulfing the other man in a big bear hug whether he wanted one or not.

“Merry Christmas, you old Scrooge!” Jefferson said in his typical affectionate manner.

“Papa, where do I put the presents?” asked Grace, who followed him in. She’d taken the time to remove her winter garments in the hall, unlike her father, and was wearing a lovely plum colored dress. She bore two brightly wrapped parcels, which Jefferson took from her.

“I’ll handle these, precious,” he said. “Why don’t you help Belle in the kitchen? Make sure she tells you which eggnog is for the grownups.”

Grace rolled her eyes at him, as if to say that was a given, and left the room. Jefferson looked at the gifts in his hands and awkwardly held them out to Gold, who took them with a little sigh, while Jefferson began to remove his jacket and scarf.

“You always outdo yourself every year,” the hatter said as he looked around the room at the decorations with a smile. “Grace says she looks forward to your party the most because your house is so beautiful.”

“Well, it shows that your daughter did not inherit your taste,” Gold snarked as he placed the presents underneath the tree with the others. He gestured to the large, tall box near the entryway with a tag that read _To Gracie, From Auntie Belle and Uncle Gold._ “I’m sure the gift from us doesn’t hurt.”

“Oooh,” Jefferson gushed. “What is it?”

“You’ll have to wait and see, just like her.” Gold handed him a bottle with a foil bow stuck to it. “For you. Merry Christmas.”

“My favorite!” Jefferson grinned, holding the wine to his chest. “Can I open it now?”

“Is there any stopping you?”

“Nope!” He was already on his way to the sidebar, but paused near the tree, backtracking a few steps as he stared at it. “Um… Rumple?”

“What?”

Jefferson turned around and Gold felt his face drain of blood when he saw Belle’s tiny red knickers dangling from the hatter’s fingers. “New Christmas ornament?” he asked, his eyebrows almost disappearing under the brim of his hat.

Gold snatched the naughty panties out of his oldest friend’s hand and stuffed them hurriedly into the pocket of his jacket. “You will forget you saw _anything_ , or you’re getting turned into something nice and squishable!” he hissed.

Jefferson just shook his head and resumed his journey to the sidebar in search of a corkscrew. “Wouldn’t be Christmas at Rumple’s unless I was threatened to be transformed into a snail at least once.”


End file.
